Just Harry
by SemperSomnium
Summary: DISCONTINUED! It's 5 years after the final battle that left Harry blind and Harry has exiled himself from the wizarding world. But when he is offered the DADA posistion, he agrees to come back home. Now to survive Hogwarts and all its memories. HPxDM
1. Prolouge

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or anything else in this fic. They all belong to J.K.Rowling, and other smart peoples.

**A/N:** This is my first chaptered fic, so please be patient with me! Please leave a review and tell me what you think! I hope you like it!

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**Chapter 1: Prologue.**

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Our story begins on a cold, average, London day. Outside, people hurried to and fro, collecting children from school, buying last minute groceries and generally wishing for their warm, snug beds back home.

But our story doesn't start with any of these mindless and boring people.

Instead, ours starts in a comfortably warm apartment, on the third floor of an unremarkable building, in the middle of an unremarkable street. However, the person slouched on the soft, plush couch, in the middle of the plain apartment, dozing, was anything but unremarkable.

Normal people, like those outside hurrying around like a swarm of irritated bee's, would only see a good looking young man, with black, I've-Just-Been-Thoroughly-Snogged hair, and penetrating eyes. If they got a little closer, they might notice the lightning shaped scar on his forehead, or how his green eyes were unfocused, and never looked directly at anyone, or anything, for that matter. If they were brave enough to start a conversation, they might hear that his name was Harry Potter, and that he was blind. Of course, that was usually as far as they were game enough to go. After all, what do you say to a person that can't see? So, for those shallow people, he was a strange person that was far from remarkable; an ordinary name, a fairly ordinary appearance and unfortunate, non-existent, eyesight.

But, the special people, the magical persons who resided in a completely different and alien world, that lay only around the next corner, or perhaps behind that blank wall, or under your very feet, those people knew and understood that Harry Potter was far from unremarkable.

He was The-Boy-Who-Lived, The-Man-That-Defeated-You-Know-Who, the Saviour, or perhaps The Golden Boy. He was the hero of the wizarding world, coming forth when the world needed him, defeating the evil and maniacal tyrant, then disappearing in a mysterious cloud of secrets.

Then there were the select few who knew, or thought they knew, Harry. Not Harry Potter; just Harry. They knew the brave and loyal Gryffindor who hated publicity, who would do anything for his friends, the boy who would laugh and joke one moment, fire up and yell at whoever was near, then break down and sob the next. Of course, that was all before the end of the war, the end of Voldemort, before the curse that had left Harry blind, and before he left the wizarding world, meaning never to return.

But we digress.

Harry was laying on the couch, just drifting off after having stayed up well past midnight reading an engrossing book that just had to be finished, when a sharp rap on the window made him groan in protest and turn around, seeking to ignore the persistent tapping. When it became apparent that the annoying sound was not preparing to stop any time soon, Harry groggily pushed himself up and cocked his head to one side. He thought he knew that sound. It reminded him of...

He let out a sharp whistle and instantly he heard the flap of wings and the happy chattering of Shria. A slight weight landed on his shoulder, a furry tail wrapping around his neck, and two small paws gripping thin locks of his hair.

To any casual observer, they would have seen a black, furry creature they would have called a monkey, save for the beautiful white wings sprouting from its back, and wondered promptly if they were dreaming, before booking themselves into a mental hospital. To any magical observer, they would have seen a small, graceful Monkal, and thought nothing of it. The magical equivalent of a muggle Seeing-Eyed-Dog, Monkal's weren't an odd sight in the magical world. They helped guide blind people around obstacles in their path, acting as their eyes and also a blind persons dearest companion and trusted friend. Raised by caring Witches and Wizards, Monkal's were taught at a young age special abilities that allowed them to become indespensible help for blind and vision impaired people. Once they were of age, they were paired with the blind person they best suited, and the two's soul's were forever joined.

Just before Harry had left the wizarding world, after the final battle, he was gifted with Shria. Charming, cheeky and irresistible, she was Harry's partner, his friend, his eyes.

Standing up, Harry took a moment to regain his sense of balance and murmur 'lead' to Shria before stepping toward the tapping. Shria gave a small tug on the right lock of hair, and Harry instantly stepped to the right, knowing that he stepped around the coffee table. Shria guided him into the small, open kitchen without mishap, and then over to the window above the sink. Harry fumbled for the small latch, but found it and pushed the window open.

There was the unmistakable whip of wings, and then a heavy weight landed on his outstretched arm, sharp talons gripping gently. His unseeing eyes wide, Harry hesitantly reached out his free hand, and smiled softly as his fingers encountered the soft feathers of an owl. Shria and the owl exchanged greetings, chattering and hooting to each other happily. Ignoring them, he trailed his fingers down, and he found the raised foot and fumbled with the string tying the letter to the talons.

Finally untying the letter, he patted the owl, before it flew off, presumably to wait on the back of a chair, judging by the direction it sounded to be heading. Harry turned around and made his way back to the couch, Shria tugging on his hair when he needed to change his direction. He sat down, and Shria moved from his shoulder to his lap, curious to see what he held. Chuckling at Shria's curiosity, Harry felt the Seal pushed into the back of the envelope.

His finger running over the raised wax, Harry felt the smile instantly die, and his heart clenched painfully in his chest. There was only one place with a sign like that.

Hogwarts.

A myriad of memories he had ignored for the better part of five years rushed to the forefront of his mind, painting his dark world with beautiful and dark images. Sparkling sunlight glinting of the lake, Sirius falling into the curtain, he and his friends laughing, Remus lying pale and still next to Tonks, Hermione focused on the homework in front of her, Voldemort laughing as he tortured wandless wizards, Ron beating him at chess, Hogwarts looming magically above him from where he sat in the small boat, Hogwarts lit by hungry flames, multi-coloured curses being cast and the glowing Dark Mark, floating high above the turrets, flying high above the Quidditch Pitch, chasing the elusive golden snitch, Ginny Weasley falling-

With a broken sob, Harry dragged himself out of his past, focusing instead on the parchment under his fingers and the warm weight of Shria as she leant on his chest and pat at his face, sensing his distress. "Shh. It's ok Shria. I'm ok." He murmured, trying to reassure her, even as he breathed too fast and his heart raced in his chest.

Hastily wiping his suddenly tearing eyes, Harry ran a comforting hand over Shria's soft wings, finding the spot just below where the wings joined the shoulder that always made the small Monkal melt. Once they had both calmed down, Harry quickly broke the seal before he lost his nerve. Running his fingers over the parchment, he realised that the writing was not in brail.

"Shria. Fetch my wand." He said softly.

Immediantly, the small creature launched herself off of Harry's lap, and a few wingbeats later was back with his wand clutched tightly in her paws.

"Thanks" Harry said, to which he got an answering croon.

Taking his wand Harry murmured a quick 'Braliotos', and he instantly felt the raised lumps of Brail rise beneath his fingertips.

Taking a deep breath, Harry began running his fingers over the script.

_'My Dearest Harry,_

_I hope this letter finds you well and in good health. It's been nigh on five years since we've heard anything from you; far too long. Though we all understand your need to get away, we all miss you. I believe Mister Weasley and Miss Granger have tried to contact you several times, but their owls seem to mysteriously come back after a few days absence with their letters still attached, and the owls apparently not remembering who they were sent to.You wouldn't have anything to do with that, now, would you?'_

Harry smiled. He could just imagine Professor Dumbledore's sapphire eyes twinkling knowingly over those ridiculous half moon spectacles he insisted on wearing. The old coot had always known more than what he should, Harry thought fondly. As to the confused owls mystery, that would be due to the protective wards he had placed around his apartment, causing all owls to instantly forget who they were delivering the letter to, and return home. That Dumbledore's owl got through suggested that strong anti-warding charms had been placed upon the bird.

_'As you have removed yourself from all proceedings in our world, I will do my best to inform you. Hogwarts is up and running, the same as you would remember it, save for a few small details. Professor Snape retired three years ago, claiming that he could not handle another moment with these impudent brats he had been daft enough to actually teach for the better part of twenty years. His words, not mine. He then went on to list all the things that the mischevious students had done to him, working himself into a rage just thinking about all of the pranks. I found it all rather amusing; some of the things the students came up with! I paticualy liked the prank a couple of fifth years pulled one Valentines Day; enchanting several suits of armour to follow him around for the day, singing love ballads specifically written for him. Quite a nice piece of magic, and seeing as it wasn't really mean or harmful the student masterminds got away with it; though I seem to recall that their class was buried in Potions homework for the next month. We were sad to lose such a gifted and talented Potions Master-'_

Harry snorted. The students sure as hell weren't sad to see that grouchy grump go, he knew.

_'- but luckily for us, his successor is as good, if not better. I believe you know him; Draco Malfoy?'_

Harry's fingers froze in shock. Malfoy? That slimy weasel? As Potions Professor? Saying that he knew him was an understatement; as Dumbledore was very well aware. The two were schoolyard enemies, and before Voldemort had made a successful comeback, he and Harry were at each others throats at every opportunity. Of course, in the last few months in the war, Malfoy had become an invaluable spy to the Light, after Snape had been found out. It seemed after his father had tortured him on the behest of the Dark Lord, Malfoy had rethought his allegiances and approached Dumbledore. When he first joined the Order of the Pheonix, there had been a lot of suspicion, and Harry was ashamed to admit that he led the pack. But then, as the fights occurred more often, the casualties becoming more numerous, he and Malfoy had put aside their petty childhood disagreements, and opted for an uneasy truce that had worked surprisingly well. Malfoy had been a great help in the final battle, and all the clashes before that. But, still. Potions Professor? He had been good at Potions during school, Harry knew, but that good? Apparently, Malfoy had learnt a lot in the years Harry had avoided the wizarding world.

_'He is a talented Potion maker, and he is a bit more sociable than Severus ever was._

_All the Professors are about the same, though Sybill retired at the end of last term, mysteriously announcing; 'It is time.' Cryptic as ever, but who are we to mess with fates pre-determined? Hmmm... What else to tell? Ah, yes, I know. Seeing as Ron and Hermione's owls couldn't find you, I will take it upon myself to inform you of the good news. They are getting married over Christmas, and are expecting their first child in early May.'_

The second time during the course of the letter, Harry's fingers froze on the parchment. They were getting married? His best friends - married? A delighted grin slowly stretched Harry's lips. Hermione and Ron always had been destined for each other - It didn't take a Prophet to figure that one out. Having missed his friends more than he cared to admit over the last few years, Harry eagerly continued skimming his fingers over the letter.

_'They are very excited, though I believe they are upset that they could not contact you. It would mean the world to them if you attended their wedding.'_

Harry paused. To attend their wedding. _Ron _and _Hermione's wedding_... Oh, how he wanted that, to sit and chat, and laugh like old times... But it wouldn't be like old times. The war would hang over them, like a dark, ominous cloud that refused to be blown away. Not to mention that he was blind. Nothing would ever be the same again.

_'Ah, my dear boy. How we have all missed you. _

_I'm sure you've realised by now that I have had an ulterior motive in contacting you.'_

Harry had.

_'I've written to ask you to become the new Defence Against The Dark Arts Professor. Our last was unfortunately not up to the job of teaching moody adolescents full time, and had a nervous breakdown near the end of the last year. Now, I know that right now, you are most likely screaming 'No!', even if it's only in your head, but I ask you to think about this. You would live at Hogwarts in your own rooms, and paid an annual income monthly. You would be fed, and anything you needed for your classes would be provided. You cannot deny, dear boy, that you are not qualified for the job; you who fought more dark magic in the last ten years of your life than most wizards twice your age. And you are a natural teacher, if the DA in your fifth year is anything to go by. That you are blind is no hinderment; as you very well know. You will think about this, before you respond. The owl has been told to stay for two days before returning with your answer. If, you have thought about it, and decided that you cannot accept the offer, then I hope you at least attend your friends wedding, or establish communication with them, and me. If you do agree, then I will be in contact with you and we will discuss your employment in greater detail._

_I hope you accept my offer, dear boy. We all miss you sorely._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'_

Harry's fingers trailed to stop. His mind was whirling and his heart beat painfully in his chest. Shria trilled concernedly, staring up at him with her wide brown eyes, but Harry didn't notice, too busy was he trying to take it all in. Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor? Was Dumbledore mad? He knew that that was impossible; Harry could never be a Professor, let alone the DADA one! He had left the wizarding world for a reason. He couldn't just waltz back in as if nothing had happened! He was _blind_, goddamnit.

And yet... There was that longing in his chest that whispered enticingly that it had been far too long for his self-enforced exile, that he had healed enough to be able to re-enter the wizarding society, where his heart longed to be. With friends, and family, and a purpose again... To no longer drift aimlessly from one sucky job to the next, to no longer return to his cold and empty apartment, to no longer hide his magic... How the proposition enticed. How he wished to just drop it all, and return home as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't been gone for the past five years, as if he hadn't been broken and beaten during the war, as if he was still just Harry...

But that couldn't be. He _had _been gone for the last five years, he _had _been broken and beaten, both physically and emotionally, he _wasn't _just Harry anymore. In one world he was the hero, the saviour, and in another he was the poor blind person to be pitied and laughed at. Either way, nobody seemed to see _Harry_.

Ron and Hermione did, his traitorous heart whispered. You could go, and show them who Harry is, who you are. Have them see the you that you know you are. The strong, resilient person who cares more about others than he does himself.

But... but... His rational mind tried to fight the tempting whispers, but found itself being persuaded by the gentle dreams and coaxing words. He knew he could be the DADA Professor, if he put his mind to it. He always had enjoyed teaching and helping students, and putting together a class schedule wouldn't be too hard. Being blind was a setback, yes, but only a small one. His rare ability to see and sense magical auras would enable him to sense any and all magic cast and by whom, and Shria would be there to help. The small Monkal was smarter than some people would think.

So, really, the only real problem that presented itself was his reason for leaving in the first place.

The war... It had been so horrible... So many dead... So many crippled, he being only one of many. How could he go back to the place that had been filled with so much light and laughter in his youth, knowing that his darker memories of fights and fires and terrible, cruel, monsters would constantly besiege him? But, then again, could he truly run from the past for the rest of his life?

Harry snorted.

The life he was living now was no true life, especially for one such as he. The memories, he found, were starting to escape from the tight barricades he had set them in, even in his muggle life. It was all only a matter of time before they came rushing out, like water from floodgates. So really, what had he to lose? Plus, maybe, just maybe, if he embraced the darker memories along with the lighter, then maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe he could cope...

Coming back to himself, he felt Shria's small paws pressing against his chest, and heard her agitated chattering.

Grimacing for spacing out so bad and worrying Shria, he said, "It's ok, love. I'm ok."

Shria scolded him in annoyed little huffs before climbing back up to his shoulder, where she proceeded to run her paws through his hair, a soothing habit they had picked up in their first year of companionship.

Sighing, Harry relaxed under her gentle ministrations, and thought about how he would word the return letter.

Finally coming to a decision, he grabbed a pen Shria had fetched for him and quickly started writing his reply before he chickened out.

_'Professor Dumbledore,_

_I trust you know how hard this decision was for me, and that I put a lot of thought into it. It pleases and terrifies me to accept your offer of becoming the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. I only hope you know what you're doing._

_Harry Potter_.'

Harry carefully folded the parchment, then he sat back with a sigh.

Climbing back into his lap, Shria whistled enquiringly, and he rested a tired hand on her head, murmuring,

"Well, girl, it looks like we're going home."

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**A/N:** Please leave a review and tell me what you think!


	2. Coming Home

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or anything else in this fic except for the plot, though that's probably not all that original either...

**A/N:** Hey! This is my first chaptered fic, and updates are gonna be slow. I apologise for the wait for this chapter, but I'm writing the chapters as I go, plus, this one caused me some problems. Please let me know what you think; I could use the help! I hope you enjoy!

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**Chapter 2: Coming Home**

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Harry swayed before regaining his balance, waiting a moment for the queasiness in his stomach to settle and for his head to stop spinning. He always had hated travelling by portkey; now he remembered why.

A couple of days after he had sent his return letter to Dumbledore, he had gotten a very happy reply that had almost sang with the merriment written on the parchment (considering it was from Dumbledore, he wouldn't have been surprised if it had), along with a portkey that would teleport him directly into the entrance hall at precisely 12:00pm on the 30th of August, leaving him two days to settle in before the students arrived. At precisely 11:58am, 30th of August, he had been beset by nervousness, and in the next two minutes wondered hysterically if he was insane, and changed his mind no less than 34 times, only just grabbing the portkey in time for his teleportation.

Now that he was actually in Hogwarts, soaking up the strong magical aura and smelling its distinctive scents that brought back bittersweet memories, he was wondering why he hadn't booked himself into St. Mungos Mental Ward instantly upon agreeing with Dumbledore's latest harebrained scheme.

Steadying himself, Harry reached up a comforting hand to reassure Shria, who was surprisingly calm for a creature who had just been transported across several hundred kilometres in a couple of seconds.

Cocking his head slightly, Harry stretched out his magic and felt.

During his sixth year, Harry had started seeing clouds of light surrounding people, and at first thought that it was some evil trick of the Dark Lord's, but when, after a month, it became apparent that the misty, multi-coloured lights were not doing any harm, Harry had started wondering if the stress of supposedly being the Wizarding World's Saviour had finally gotten to him and that he had finally lost it. It wasn't until three months later after a particularly trying day, that he finally told Ron and Hermione he thought he was going mad (the bright lights now covering everyone he saw and very rarely 'turning off'). Of course, Ron was near hysterical at the news, but Hermione took it in stride and started thinking logically about it, living in the library almost every spare minute for the next week until, finally, she returned, triumphant, with a thin book describing the extremely rare and almost-forgotten gift of seeing a persons magical aura. After informing Dumbledore of this exciting development, Harry was then trained to control his amazing skill, until he could turn it on and off at will. During the war, it turned into an invaluable asset, him being able to sense any and all spells cast within a twenty metre radius and being able to sense any people with magical capabilities in a forty metre zone. It was one of the reasons he was able to defeat Voldemort, and when he had emerged, blind, he still retained the ability to sense auras, though slightly changed: he could no longer see the person in the middle of the mist, only the swirling colours. His skill had then become a survival necessity. In the Muggle world, it was greatly diminished, but muggles' still exuded a faint wisp of unconscious magical ambience, rendering Harry's ability not completely useless.

Now, ahead of him, under the constant thrum of Hogwart's magic, there were three strong auras that burnt different colours to his mental eye, and that pulsated with magic. The one in the lead, at the point of the triangle the forms made, was a startling blue that throbbed a slow steady beat, but every couple of seconds would spark unexpectedly with a random bit of light, suggesting that the person was spontaneous and eccentric. Harry smiled slightly; Dumbledore.

Behind the blue aura there were two more, slightly smaller than Dumbledore's, but no less bright. The one to the right was a deep green that sparkled like emeralds, and that Harry instantly recognised as McGonagall. He idly wondered what she would say if she knew her aura was a green that resembled Slytherin's colour. Her aura was coiled tight, almost resembling a solid shape rather than a mist-like cloud of light, and beat a consistent pulse that suited her calm and controlled personality.

Turning his attention to the third aura, Harry sucked in a breath.

Beautiful.

The bright light was a white that shaded on grey, almost making it look silver, and that crackled with repressed energy, hinting that the person was a strong, emotional individual that hid behind an aloof mask. The pure colours immediantly brought to mind the soft white and greys of a dove, and the chilling hardness of marble. Although he didn't immediantly recognise the startling aura, Harry thought that he might know who it was, judging by the colour and immense energy that almost rivalled Dumbledore's. Though why Draco Malfoy would be here to greet him, he had no idea...

The blue aura flickered and moved forward, and Harry snapped his attention back to Dumbledore. He could hear the quiet scuff of shoes against the hard stone, and Shria let out a high pitched screech that was supposed to alert him of someone approaching, but only succeeded in threatening to burst his eardrums.

Breaking the silence, Dumbledore spoke, "Harry."

Then he enveloped him in a hug that at first had Harry stiffening, before relaxing and tentatively hugging back.

"Welcome home." Dumbledore whispered, and with those two simple words most of Harry's doubts and fears vanished. He knew they would be back, but for now he was nearly worry free.

The tight knot in his stomach loosened and eased, and Harry murmured, "It's good to be home."

Dumbledore pulled back, and Harry had the sneaking suspicion that he was wiping his eyes of tears. Harrys own were prickling unpleasantly, but he refused to let the warm moisture fall.

When Dumbledore next spoke, Harry could hear the delighted smile in his voice.

"Ah! Hello Shria!"

Judging by Shria's curious chattering and restless movements, then the content purrs, Dumbledore had reached out a hand and started patting her. She always was a pushover for anyone who took the time to stroke her.

McGonagall stepped forward, while Malfoy hung back.

"It's nice to see you, Mister Potter. You've been gone a long time."

"Ah, It's Professor Potter, now, Minerva." Dumbledore corrected happily.

"That sounds weird." Harry said, voicing his thoughts.

Dumbledore laughed.

"You'll get used to it soon enough!"

He paused for a moment and Harry assumed that he turned and beckoned to Malfoy, for the silver aura moved forward.

"You remember Draco Malfoy, don't you, Harry?"

Harry smiled sarcastically, "Yeah, now that you mention it, I do seem to vaguely recall someone by that name."

"Potter," Malfoy said coolly, but Harry thought he saw his aura flicker with an emotion that almost resembled amusement.

"Malfoy," Harry greeted properly.

Harry reached out a hand, knowing that very few people would initiate a handshake due to the fact that he could not see where their hand was. Usually, Harry was thankful for the small common senses of people, but sometimes, it was very annoying to be treated like an inferior cripple (the second part may have been right, but Harry's Gryffindor pride stubbornly refused to be thought of as a mindless, depressed idiot all because he could not see), so he had learnt long ago to just take the initiative and stick out his hand, knowing that a persons good manners dictated that they would have to take his hand or risked being seen as morally rude (not to mention a stuck up prick for not shaking the poor cripples hand).

In Malfoy's favour, their was only a very slight, almost non-existent, hesitation before his warm hand clasped Harry's. His hand was long and slender, his grip strong and firm, and Harry knew from the past that his skin would be a pale white that somehow managed to look natural on the young blonde. For some strange reason Harry could not define, the steady palm pressed against his was very calming, and Harry felt the last of his nervousness drop away. Grinning, Harry let go of the warm hand.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Dumbledore's aura spark with what looked like hundreds of small white lights, reminding him of the old man's eyes when they would sparkle with some random idea or amusing thought. What was the old coot up to now...?

Dumbledore moved forward and linked arms with Harry, gently tugging until the younger man stepped forward, murmuring to Shria as he did so, 'follow', so the small Monkal would know that she didn't need to guide him, but to stay close. In response she jumped off his shoulder, and Harry could hear her flapping around above him, chattering curiously all the while.

"We are very glad you've decided to join us, my dear boy. I believe Mister Weasley and Miss Granger were especially excited, but I managed to convince them to wait until you contacted them before coming to see you," Dumbledore said conversationally, gently guiding Harry toward where he knew the Great Staircase was. He could hear Malfoy and McGonagall following quietly.

Harry was slightly relieved to hear that Ron and Hermione wouldn't come ambushing him at any random moment. He had no idea what he was going to say to them, though he knew that he wouldn't be able to persuade them to stay away for longer than a couple of weeks, and even that was pushing it. Maybe he could invite them over the next weekend...

"...Your classes timetables will be given to you later today and anything you need, you have only to ask. If you ever want to talk, my door is always open." Harry came back to himself to hear the last of Dumbledore's mini-speech.

The Headmaster gently patted the back of Harry's hand, then disentangled himself from his arm.

"I will leave you in Draco's hands now, Harry. Minerva and I have a meeting with the Minister to attend, and, alas, we will have to cut our reunion short. Perhaps, you will join me for some tea and sherbet lemons sometime during the next week?"

Harry nodded, hiding his surprise. He had only just arrived and was now being left alone with Malfoy? He again had the nagging feeling that Dumbledore was up to something...

"Good." Dumbledore sounded pleased. "Draco, could you please escort Professor Potter to his new suite of rooms?"

Malfoy must have gestured in the affirmative because Dumbledore's aura sparkled again before he started off up the stairs, calling over is shoulder, "Thank-you, Draco. Harry, I'll see you soon."

Harry could hear McGonagall moving forward, following Dumbledore, but she stopped as she was passing him and reached out and touched his arm.

"It's good to see you, Professor Potter." He could hear the faint edge of amusement in her voice. "I'm sure Hogwarts will benefit greatly from your teachings." Harry could see her aura uncoiling a little, revealing the warmth she felt for him. She then walked up the stairs, leaving him with Malfoy.

Harry whistled softly and Shria flew down and landed on his shoulder, chirping and chattering happily. He reached up a hand and scratched behind her ears, smiling softly as she leaned into his fingers and started purring.

There was a scuff as shoes scraped against the cold stone floor and the whisper of robes, then Malfoy stood patiently beside him.

"Ready, Potter?" In the past Malfoy's voice would have held animosity and scorn, but during the war their hatred for each other had mellowed and evened into respect, even liking, and now all the blondes voice held was amusement, with a hint of wariness. Harry supposed that was normal, considering they hadn't seen each other in five years.

"Sure." Harry fumbled for Draco's arm, finally grabbing it.

Malfoy's aura flickered in surprise, and Harry could just imagine the raised eyebrow and bemused stare he would be getting now, but he just smiled wryly and asked, "So, where are we going?"

Malfoy sighed, and said, "Up to the rooms Dumbledore assigned for you." His voice held a note that stated clearly, 'Duh'.

He stepped forward, tugging gently on Harry's arm. As they set off up the stairs, Malfoy was a little awkward about leading a blind person around (and a childhood-nemesis at that), and Harry amused at the fact that he was gripping Draco Malfoy's arm, and counting on him to get him safely to an unknown suite of rooms and not lead him off a cliff, or a really tall tower, or something else equally life threatening.

"So, hows life been?" Harry asked, grinning.

"Absolutely thrilling. You?" Malfoy's voice held wry amusement and no small amount of sarcasm.

"Oh, not too bad. Living in the Muggle world as a blind cripple, wandering from one sucky job to the next, it was just awesome; my dearest wish come true." Harry grinned at the small snort of amusement the blonde released. "Na, truly it wasn't all that bad." He continued more seriously. "It's what I needed, you know? To just get away from it all..." The next few moments were spent in contemplative silence, before Harry spoke again, trying to lighten the mood. "So, what's it like being the Potions Professor?"

Harry grinned as Draco replied, "I can now understand why Snape was so grouchy all the time," he said ruefully, "Teaching adolescents of all ages is almost as bad as getting Hagrid's old Blast-Ended Skrewts to become remotely interesting."

Harry laughed, thinking about Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures classes. He loved the half giant, but, really, those classes were so bad!

"Don't you laugh. You'll have to teach them soon enough." Harry could hear the pout in Draco's voice.

"I'm not laughing at you teaching kids," he hurried to reassure, "I'm just remembering Hagrid's classes."

Harry could see Draco's aura twisting around itself in embarrassment, but the young aristocrat just said, "Yes, they were bad, weren't they?"

Harry hummed in agreement.

Shria chose that moment to screech loudly and chatter reprovingly at being ignored, causing Harry to laugh, and Draco to smile slightly, though, of course, Harry couldn't see that.

They continued on in comfortable silence for the next few moments, both lost in their own thoughts. Eventually, Draco came to a stop, Harry halting half a second later.

"To your right, is a portrait. Behind that are your rooms. I trust you don't need my help exploring them?"

"No, thank you," Harry responded politely.

"Good." Malfoy turned away, but before he had taken a step, he turned back, saying, "By the way, the password is 'Ginger Snaps'. Dumbledore set it, but you can change it if you want." With that, the blonde Slytherin was gone.

Shaking his head in amusement, Harry turned to his right, and hesitantly said, "Ginger Snaps."

"Quite right, Professor," came the answering reply. The voice was rich and unmistakably female.

Turning his head slightly, Harry murmured to Shria, "Remember: our rooms." There was silence for several seconds before she loosed a happy trill. She would now remember this spot and be able to lead him here when he murmured the words 'our rooms.' He nodded and said, "lead," stepping forward as he done so.

She led him safely in, and he commenced with exploring his new suite. There was an open living room with a couch and armchair resting in front of the fire. A doorway led to the small kitchen/dining room, and another led to a bathroom. There were two more doors, both leading to bedrooms. One held a double bed, and the other a king size that had the softest mattress Harry had ever come across. Obviously, one was his, and the other a guest room. He knew which one he was having.

Having finished his exploration, he had deduced that the rooms were reasonably sized, cozey little set ups that were uncluttered; perfect for Harry's wants and needs.

Smiling happily, he left to change the password for his rooms, Shria perched on his shoulder, and his mind buzzing with the happy thrill of being home.

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**A/N: **I could have written more, but I figured I had best get it out. The next chapter is probably gonna take a while as I have absolutly NONE of it written out... And my motivation comes and goes... And I'm working on another chaptered fic that is going a bit better than this one, as well as a HarryXDraco one-shot... So, yeah.

**Authors Request:** Please leave a review! They make my day, and help with my motivation! ;o)


	3. The Welcoming Feast

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter or anything else in this fic, except for possibly the plot.

**A/N: **Sorry for the wait on this chapter! I know it took forever for me to get it out, but it's here now! Also, a warning, this chapter has a couple of swear words, mainly just the 'S' word. If you don't like that, then don't read.

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**Chapter 3: The Welcoming Feast.**

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Harry smoothed his robes nervously, wishing he could see if they looked alright and weren't put on, say, backwards. He had done that a couple of times in the beginning... It was embarrassing to say the very least.

"They are fine, dear. You look very smart." Harry jumped at the unexpected voice, but then remembered that the mirrors in the Wizarding World could be enchanted to help with fashion dilemmas. He reminded himself to thank the Headmaster when he saw him next.

"Thanks," he murmured awkwardly, not at all sure if he was suppose to talk to it.

"No problem," came the reply.

Whistling for Shria, Harry felt along the wall until he had safely exited the bathroom, by which time Shria had arrived from whatever mischief she had previously been up to.

The two days leading up to the return of the students had passed quickly, he and Shria reaquainting themselves with Hogwarts and the Wizarding World. The last few days had reminded him just how much he loved and relied upon Shria. He was sure he would have fallen into gaps left behind from the moving staircases, not to mention become hopelessly lost, if he didn't have her.

He had been shown where his classroom was, as well as his office, which were the same rooms as they had been in his school years. He had relearnt his way around them, and was fairly certain he could move about them by himself, so long as no one moved anything.

After he had made sure he had all he would need for his classes and went over what he had planned for them, he had headed to the Great Hall for lunch when Peeves had thought it funny to pick on the boy-who-is-blind. But then had rethought his choice of victim when Shria had taken offence on behalf of Harry and had deemed it necessary to chase Peeves around the castle, shrieking angrily and hassling him on the way. Harry was only lucky that he had been close to the Great Hall and could find his way there without the help of Shria. When he had stumbled in, stepping carefully and hesitantly, McGonagall, (who had insisted he call her Minerva), had asked him about the absence of Shria. He had related the story dryly, to which the other Professors had chuckled. Minerva had then been kind enough to lead him to the single long table, seating him in the only available seat next to Malfoy, who's aura was still flashing in amusement. Half an hour later, Shria had flown in, radiating an air of smugness and mild exhaustion, quite pleased with her efforts, and proceeded to shriek and chatter at all the Professors, animatedly telling them all that she had accomplished, and overlooking the fact that they could not understand anything she was saying, much to the amusement of all persons gathered.

Sooner than he had thought possible, the night of the Welcoming Feast had arrived, twisting Harry's stomach in uncomfortable knots with the knowledge that he would soon be introduced to the student body as Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, their Saviour, and their new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor.

Harry was struggling to recall a time when he had less wanted to be so famous.

Taking a deep breath, Harry walked smoothly toward the entrance to his rooms, following Shria's small tugs of his hair. He stepped out into the hall, instantly seeing the silver aura of Malfoy waiting beside the portrait. Considering that this would be Harry's first Welcoming Feast as a teacher, Dumbledore had instructed the Draco to escort him to the Great Hall. Secretly, Harry was glad that Malfoy would be there to lead him to the raised dias that he would be sitting on for the rest of the year. He didn't feel very much like embarrassing himself tonight.

"Malfoy." Harry greeted calmly, trying to pretend that he didn't feel the need to run into the nearest bathroom and bring up his small lunch.

"Potter." Draco acknowledged, then asked curiously, "So, how's your stomach? Trying to turn itself inside out yet?"

Harry gave a startled laugh, then grinned ruefully. "Is it really that obvious?"

Harry could see Malfoy's aura sparkle in amusement as he answered, "No, I just remember feeling that way when I first started."

Harry grinned.

"So it isn't just me, then? That's a relief. Though, I'm having a hard time imagining the great Draco Malfoy feeling nervous," Harry teased lightly.

"Of course you are. Malfoy's do not show nervousness." Harry could tell that Draco had stuck his nose in the air pompously, and had to chuckle at the image.

Still grinning, Harry reached out his hand, surprised when Malfoy moved his arm to meet his grasp. Arching an eyebrow but otherwise refraining from commenting, Harry murmured 'follow' to Shria, then they both smoothly started down the corridor, Harry a half step behind Draco. The walk down the flights of stairs was silent, but not uncomfortably so, and Harry found himself considering how weird his life had gotten and was forced to admit that he had yet to find out if that was a good weird or not, though at the moment he was leaning toward good. Knowing his luck, though, it probably wouldn't stay that way. The past few days had been fun, and while memories did pop up as he was exploring the castle, those memories had all been good. He remembered many times from when he was young, most that he had forgotten when trying to ignore his past. But now, with the school year starting and students to meet and teach, Harry was unsure how long the worst memories were going to stay away, or how well he would cope when they did resurface.

The walk to the Great Hall passed quickly, and before Harry knew it, they were walking between the long tables. Harry knew they would be covered in gleaming gold plates and cutlery, reflecting the light of the flickering candles and the mirrored sky, just waiting for hundreds of children to rush through those doors and fill the cavernous room with their laughter and joy. It made him wonder at how many adolescents had sat at the wooden benches, eating and talking, learning and living, through the many years Hogwarts had been in business. It was a daunting thought, but a strangely comforting one; the knowledge that students would continue to pass through these halls, long after he and his descendants had left this world, and that Hogwarts would prevail throughout the next few centuries. It filled him with warmth, knowing that this is what he had fought for, what the Wizarding World had fought for. What they had won. He had forgotten that, over the past few years. Harry promised himself that he would never again forget.

Harry was brought from his musings when Shria chattered her hellos at the gathered Professors, and Harry realised that he had reached the dias, and was currently being led to a seat next to Minerva's empty one. Smiling and responding to the greetings, Harry fumbled behind him for the edge of the chair, safely seating himself eventually.

Malfoy seated himself beside Harry, his aura slowly swirling in calm anticipation, while Dumbledore's was sparkling erratically. Harry resolved to keep a closer eye on the eccentric headmaster in the future. One must wonder what devious mischief he would get into, if ever he were left unsupervised. In that respect, he was very much like the children they looked after, causing numerous headaches for many of the staff, much to the students constant delight.

The Professors did not have long to wait before the huge wooden doors swung open, and a great roar of sound entered the cavernous room. Chattering, laughing teenagers poured in, appearing to Harry as a brilliant rainbow of sparkling colours.

Harry sat back, taking in the colours, noting how every aura was slightly different, in either colour, shade, rhythm or the sparkles dancing in the midst of it all.

Slowly but surely, the children seated themselves at their tables, the noise never receding. If he concentrated, Harry could make out a few whispered questions about him, mainly asking who he was, if he would be a good DADA teacher, and if he would manage to break the one year curse on the position. He snorted as he happened to overhear a group of boys betting on how long it would take for him to crack under the pressure and leave, as the last Professor had.

Several minutes passed before the doors swung open again and Minerva entered, leading a nervous string of students into the Hall. Gradually, the chatter died down as the older students stared and whispered about the newcomers, while the First Years looked around and gasped softly at the splendour of the room.

Harry could still remember when he was the one to be entering those doors for the first time, following the strict McGonagall, taking in the enchanted ceiling, the staring, curious, faces and the golden cutlery on the four long tables, all the while wondering at what test he was to be put through, and fearing that he would be declared a mistake and sent back to the Dursley's. He felt a pang of bittersweet sadness. So naive. How trivial his fears were in comparison with what he had yet to face. Yet, he had also felt hope and happiness within these walls, something that had always been lacking at the Dursley's.

The sudden silence in the hall was startling enough to bring him out of his thoughts, just in time to hear, "Audrey, Tanya," from Minerva.

There was a shuffling among the students before a pale pink aura stepped forward, writhing and twisting in extreme nervousness and anticipation.

The Sorting Hat appeared as a dull white cloud that shone with magical energy, but did not have any discernable features Harry had become used to seeing in magical people.

It was placed on the girls head, and barely a moment later, it yelled, "RAVENCLAW!"

The thunderous applause form that table was almost deafening, while the teachers and other Houses clapped politely.

The girl scurried off and the next child was called forward.

Harry zoned out slightly for the rest of the First Years, clapping politely with the others, but not really taking in what was happening.

That is, until a small boy stepped forward, his aura drawing Harry's attention like an insect to a flame. The magical cloud was unusual in a number of ways, the first being the actual colour, or rather the mix of colours. Emerald and silver were swirled together, touching and connecting, but never actually mixing. It was rare for Harry to see an aura made of two or more colours and he wasn't sure as to why they were rare either. The second thing that captured his attention was the utter stillness of it. Not one thing moved in the aura, save for the sketchy throb of the boy's nature.

It was almost as if he was deathly afraid.

Harry leaned forward, his eyes intent as he watched the boy sit on the stool and the Hat rest on his head. Unlike most of the other students, the Hat took several long minutes to come to a decision, making the boys aura throb even less than what it did previously. Harry was scared that he was going to have a heart attack or something.

Finally, after the shifting and rising muttering of the upper years had almost reached a crescendo, the boy stiffened, drawing attention back to him and causing silence to fall once again.

After pausing for another incredibly long moment, the Hat shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

The clapping was notably softer than for the other First Years, interspersed with confused and speculative muttering.

The boy hopped down and strode toward the Slytherin table, and Harry thought that the boy might faint from the relief the aura was suddenly jumping with. Harry smiled slightly and lent back, glad that the boy was obviously happy with where he had been put. Or perhaps he was just relieved that he had been sorted at all.

Minerva cleared her throat and waited for the noise to drop again before calling the next student up, and Harry let his attention wander again, this time considering the boy with the unusual aura.

Finally the sorting finished, and Minerva spelled away the stool and Hat, before joining the other Professors on the dias.

Albus stood and Harry watched as the annoyingly bright sparkles in his aura flashed and danced in a way that was almost hypnotic, if you could get past the blinding brightness of them.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! For those that are returning, I hope you had good summers, and for those that have only just joined us, then I hope you enjoy your time here. Before we dig into the excellent feast the House Elves have prepared for us, I have a few start of year notices. The Forbidden Forest is forbidden to all, as some of our older students would do well to remember," there were chuckles throughout the Hall, "and our Mr Filch would like to remind you that all of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes products are strictly off limits, and for a more comprehensive list of forbidden items, please visit Mr Filch's office." There were quite a few groans at that. "Also, I would like to introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor." Harry sucked in a nervous breath, knowing that this wasn't going to be pretty. " Please welcome Professor Harry Potter to our school."

Harry waved from his position, not game enough to stand and potentially have to fumble around for his seat again, and felt himself redden as the silence stretched.

Finally, after what felt like hours, but was probably only a few seconds, the silence was broken when someone exclaimed, "Holy Shit!"

Like a dam, the words broke the silence and started a roar of sound. Harry heard quite a few comments along the lines of, "Harry Potter? _The_ Harry Potter?!", "I thought he was dead!", "Can you see his scar?!" and "I heard that he's blind."

Even Professor Dumbledore couldn't quiet them, so after several futile attempts, he gave up and instead summoned the food.

Harry tried to ignore the stares he could feel directed at him, and instead started on his dinner. That is, until a badly muffled snicker had his head whipping around to glare at a thoroughly amused Draco Malfoy.

"What?" The blonde asked innocently.

Harry growled wordlessly and turned back to the feast, ignoring the chuckles that escaped Malfoy every so often and the amused flickering of the other teachers auras.

The students eventually realised that the food had arrived and started to eat, though the noise hardly receded any.

After everyone had eaten and quieted down somewhat, Albus again stood.

"Seeing as I was unable to finish before, I shall have to do so now. Professor Potter is _the_ Harry Potter, as you put it, and therefore most of you should know his story. Unfortunately, he is blind, and I expect that should he require any assistance, you will gladly give it. The rest is for him to say or not. Now, tomorrow you will get your timetables, and I assume you will be well rested for your classes, so you are released to find your beds. First Years please follow your House Prefects. Goodnight."

The children stood and moved toward the doors, filing out with all intentions of returning to their Common Rooms and staying up to all hours of the night gossipping about the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor.

After the students had all left, Dumbledore commented mildly, "I think that went rather well. Don't you?"

Over the Professors laughter, Harry's head could be heard dropping onto the table with a loud _'thunk'_.

Standing up, Harry said mock stiffly, "Well, then. If you are all going to make fun of me, then I have better places to be. Namely, my bed."

Harry waved languidly to them and strode out of the hall, following the soft tugs on his hair.

He was half way to his rooms when a shouted, "Potter!" had him pausing and half turning, only to find a jogging Malfoy panting behind him.

"What is it?" Harry asked curiously.

"I just wanted to say, that I am so terribly sorry for finding your plight amusing."

If it weren't for the outrageous swirling of Malfoy's aura, Harry might have almost believed him.

As it was, he stuck his nose in the air, sniffed haughtily, and turned on his heel, only to have the blonde fall into step beside him.

Harry could hear the grin on Malfoy's face as he said, "Well, you have to admit it was funny. I mean, come on, the best that they could come up with was 'Holy Shit'!"

So saying that, the Potions Professor fell into uncontrolled laughter and Harry found himself chuckling along too, though it was more at the thought that he had never heard Draco make such a sound before, and he found that he rather liked it.

They reached Harry's rooms just as Malfoy got himself fully under control once again, in time to say, "Goodnight, Potter."

He then turned back down the hall and walked unhurriedly along, only to be brought up short as Harry called, "Oi! Malfoy!"

The blonde turned, his aura pausing in curiosity.

"The name's Harry. Got that?"

Malfoy's aura flickered slightly in surprise, but he responded with, "And mine is Draco. Goodnight, Harry."

Draco's rich laughter followed him into his rooms, and when the morning came, Harry could have sworn that it had echoed through his dreams as well.

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**A/N2: **Ok, there's chapter three! I hope you enjoyed it. I don't know when the next chapter will be out, but hopefully it won't be too long.

**Authors Request: **Please review and tell me what you think, and any mistakes I've made.


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